ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTHWEST
Travelling with Claire
March 2011
March 1 Tuesday
I had a nice drive today. Claire, the name I gave the Australian lady’s voice in my new Garmin GPS, took me down Interstate 5 then across the Central Valley on a road I had never been on before, so that was nice. She took me through the small destitute town of Albaugh. Oh the poverty. When the road ran out she wanted me to continue across a plowed field. And so that was my first encounter with some the antics Claire would pull on me in the years to come. We arrived at Allensworth State Park at three P.M. only to find it closed. I just did not think and should have expected as much with all the current California budget cuts affecting the State Park system. I was really bummed as I was looking forward to parking in a campsite and have my tea. Now I was forced into going on into Bakersfield. I didn’t see any promising truck stops or parking lots along the way and gave up just before turning on Highway 58 towards Mojave. Using Claire for guidance she found for us River Run RV Park and at five P.M. with thirty-two dollars less in my pocket, we were camped. I was okay with her find. It was a nice park with Wi-Fi, plus we were hooked up to electricity. The only bad thing was the lady put us in spot #4. In spot #5 was a Winnebago View, same year as ours. It looked like we were traveling together. I never saw the residents and really did not want to only to have to talk View talk. I really love Claire for she does it all for me and I can enjoy the scenery without any bother. She brought me right to the park without my having to figure out how to get back to it after passing it on the freeway. This GPS thing holds a lot of promise I could see. I was not hungry even though I had no lunch - breakfast was still with me. I did stop to make tea at the first truck stop which I moved out of before finding River Run. Diesel was $4.09 to $4.11 but I vowed to not let the high prices ruin my fun.
Wednesday
When I bought gas in Bakersfield I had to go inside and leave my credit card. The machine card slot was blocked off. The guy asked to see my ID. I had to go back out and get it. I asked why as I had never had to do that before. He was reluctant to say (nice Mexican guy) but finally I got it out of him–a lot of people come in here to buy gas with stolen credit cards. This whole part of town looked just like the type. When I thought I had left the worst of society behind in Bakersfield, I was confronted with the same if not worse in Barstow. What a hell hole! Everyone looked homeless, alcoholic, a meth-head and just simply the type you would not want your daughter to be around. For that matter one wouldn’t want their son around any of the women I saw either. People, I just don’t understand. The View turned over fifty thousand miles in Barstow.
I drove on to Amboy and just before the town was a new BLM turnoff to Amboy Crater. One other RV was there from Michigan, an older couple with a dog on a chain and a parrot sitting in cage just outside their RV. And people think I am a bit off traveling with a cat. I did not see any signs stating not to overnight camp so I stayed, along with the parrot people. I contemplated doing the hike out to the crater but what for? There is just a bunch of lava, nothing else. I have seen enough craters already and it is not like you have a view to the center of the earth or anything. So I was content with a little walkabout nearby, unintentionally caving in kangaroo rat tunnels as I went along. It is dangerous business hiking around there, either on the sharp lava or risking a twisted ankle in a kangaroo rat hole.
Thursday
We left Amboy after taking a couple new pictures of Roy’s−a preserved and still operating travel’s rest stop on old Route 66−where fuel was $4.49 for gas and $4.69 for diesel. If you really need it, you pay for it. Years from now the prices at Roy’s will be the standard no doubt (by the time this trip was over and I was back home, that line had already become fact). I drove leisurely on to Desert Center then east on Interstate 10 through Blythe on into Quartzsite, Arizona. I filled up in town where fuel was ten cents cheaper than in California. Next, a stop in one of the few stores, very small ones at that. I had a real good look at the average person who travels to Quartzite for the winter, known as Snowbirds. This is so much what I do not want to be around. And to think at one time I did. But that was when I was working at the post office and oh so desperate for anything, for then all I had to get me through my depression were my dreams of living this life which was just that, my dream. After finally finding a place to get online and sending e-mails, we pulled out for it was getting close to tea time. I knew where I wanted to go−Scadden Wash east of the town. But in a moment of dumbness I pulled onto the Interstate instead of the frontage road just a few feet beyond and was committed to seven miles of Interstate travel. I fully realized my mistake as I watched Scadden Wash pass by on my right as I continued to drive on. Fortunately the first turn-off, Gold Nugget Road, provided some flat camp spots off on a nice graded gravel road and that is where we stayed. It was warm and a bit much from what I was used to at home. Even though it was in the mid-seventies this was too much of a heat increase too sudden and I needed a few days to acclimate. I shaved off my beard thinking that would help. I had brought along a closet full of clothes for cold weather and hardly anything for warm weather. It looked like I would be wearing the same clothes for a long time.
Friday
Gold Nugget Road turned out to be a very nice place to camp. We moved on to Picacho State Park, sixty plus miles south of Phoenix. We went south through Gila Bend to avoid Phoenix, a bad place that I see on television watching Border Wars. More kidnappings happen there than any other place in the U.S., not that I am afraid of being kidnapped. We have been to this park before. It is a nice place and the last time it was six dollars and even has showers. I remarked to the ranger lady then how nice that was compared to the rip-off California Parks and they don’t even have showers for the most part. Well now it had all changed. There was a big fancy new visitor center, all the camp spots have electrical hook-ups and the new fee is twenty-five dollars. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut the last time. But it is quiet and still worth the price, considering I took my first shower and it felt wonderful. Sinbad explored a wee bit when we first parked then came back inside, settled in and never moved much for the rest of the afternoon. Even though the temperatures were only in the mid to high seventies I still think it was more than either of us were used to. I went for a walkabout after my tea and zucchini bread just to see what was out in the desert. There was a hiking trail of two and three miles to the top of the nearby fifteen hundred foot peak, rated difficult for the shorter trail and moderate to difficult the longer. Cables are used and gloves required. I kind of would like to do it but I thought once into it I would be asking myself why am I doing this? Maybe next time.I notice people, people who look old and dorky, the typical look for RVers and the like. I think to myself I do not want to look or be like that. Then I think again how others must view me. I feel I am just another one of them and there is no escaping it−old, wrinkly, with soft fleshy pale pasty white skin, thinning gray hair, balding head, gray whiskers, and slow moving. About slow moving: I had been driving along at fifty-seven mph for the last few days and the mileage was nineteen mpg and higher. That was really nice. I used to avoid the Interstates in the past but so far on this trip that was almost all the road we had been on. It was nice with Claire in control. I don’t have to think about where I will have to turn next or when it is coming up or how far to wherever it is we are going. She does it all for me. People can pass me by and while I enjoy the scenery. I am in no hurry to get where, I do not even know.
I finished the Chef’s Salad I started previous night. These store-bought ready-made salads are nice and convenient. Then I did a word puzzle and didn’t know what else to eat for dinner. I thought of the hot dogs which sounded good. I noticed we did not have a skillet in with the cookware. I knew what it looked like, but where was it? The relish I brought said ‘Sell by Sept ‘08’ – three years ago! I wondered if it was still okay even if only a third of it was left. After dinner Sinbad wanted to go out for a walk. I really did not want to but felt bad for him being inside most of the time and he does enjoy his evening walks. The only thing was I usually do it when there is some light left. It was black dark outside−no moon. I could not see a thing and could only go by the sound of staying on the roadway. Fortunately he was okay with that. I did not want to go off into the dirt for there was cholla cactus on the ground all around. It was so nice out in the evenings – short sleeve temperature. There are thousands more stars in the sky to be seen than what I am normally accustomed to. After about five minutes he wandered back to the RV and was fine with what he did. He is a good little guy and such a great companion to have with me all the time out here on the road.
Saturday morning
Bathroom story: The bathrooms are about the best to be seen in a State Park, or anywhere for that matter−large, clean and all done in tile. Anyone would give them an A-plus rating. When I went in to inspect them upon arrival, in checking the showers I saw someone had left an Indian style silver ring on the bench in one of the showers. I left it there thinking whoever lost it would come back. A couple hours later when I went for my shower it was still there. I tried it on and it fit, but rings aren’t my thing so I left it. The next morning I would check again to see if it was still there. Well come morning the bathrooms were in the process of being cleaned so I knew it would be gone. The campground host guy came by in his golf cart. “The restrooms are being cleaned. You will have to use the next one up the road, just past the ramada.” I said okay. I’ll just pack this load a bit further. Then he added “The boy scouts made a mess in there so they have to clean the restrooms.” “Boy scouts” I exclaimed. “Maybe they will earn a merit badge for this.” He said maybe they will learn a lesson and I replied “We can only hope.” Boy Scouts. What has our society come to if you can’t even trust a Boy Scout?
We left Picacho State Park and drove south through Tucson then east to Benson, Arizona. We made a stop at the ghost town site of Fairbank. There was not much there but I was glad I did see it. There are only a few buildings left standing and only one you can walk into. The rest, the BLM is afraid you may get hurt. Years ago this would not be an issue but that is how it is these days. I did the walk out to the cemetery which was a half mile away from town. On the way I was thinking that you better have some good friends who are willing to haul your bones all this way. The narrow road then turned off to the right and became an uphill trail. Now I am thinking these better be some really good friends. On top of the hill there were very few markers with only three having dates around the turn of the century. I estimated there were about thirty grave sites that were recognizable and was surprised to later learn that a hundred nineteen people were buried in the hard packed earth. I looked around and realized why this spot was chosen for their cemetery−it was the closest hill to town. Cemeteries usually are selected to be on top of a hill. We like to think they do so for the view, but in those times it may have been partly for the view but more the belief of being that much closer to heaven was far more important.
We moved on to Tombstone. I had to go there because it is there. I also had to go with an RV park as there was nowhere else to stay. Only three parks were available and the one I chose was on the outskirts of town away from all the hubbub of Tombstone. Right from my first sight of it, Tombstone did not look like a place I wanted to go to. It appeared all the touristy stuff was one street over from the main highway through town. I could look down the side streets and see bumper to bumper cars parked. RVs were not recommended. My guess was I would have to park in the OK Corral parking lot and walk the block to downtown and see “comedy gunfights”, saloon gals dressed up and the locals in their period western outfits. Oh my!
I took a walk around the RV park, mainly to find another spot away from the yapping dog that was left behind in a fifth-wheel a row in front of us. Even with the radio going I could still hear the mutt. Robin, the lady running the place was very obliging. I had a spot picked out but just as I was walking into the office a couple came out having just checked in. They had a big coach with two yappers on the dash carrying on. “That’s our welcoming committee” the man said as he walked by me. I asked Robin how about spot #19, “Unless the couple who just walked out will be close to that”. She had just assigned them #22. I selected a spot on the other end of the park by the cabins and it turned out fine. Sinbad had a pine tree to claw on and wanted to crawl under the cabin. Robin used to live in Orange County. While chatting I mentioned where we live and it being a fifty- five or better community. Robin said she will be there, fifty-five, next month or so. My goodness, I thought she was my age. She was a petite woman with a bit too short red hair. She had that bit of a nervous twitch thing going on with her head. Later I find her standing outside sucking on a cigarette. Now I knew why she looked ten years older.
Sunday
Early in the morning and later after the one hour of ‘open window for Internet’, the bathroom door for the park was locked. I gave up and left Tombstone RV Park. I forced myself to go into Tombstone itself. Fortunately I found a specified area down the hill for RV parking, only a block from the attractions. The next fortunate thing was not many people were there...yet. I slowly walked the street and try as I did, I could not vision what I was seeing as ‘authentic’. It all looked to be created for the sake of the tourist. It was like Knott’s Berry Farm but not as well done as Knott’s. At least I stopped and I saw and was soon leaving Tombstone. I had filled the fuel tank the afternoon before so we were ready to motor on down the road, through the town of Bisbee which looked far more interesting than Tombstone. I stopped and peered down into the huge open pit copper mine, skirted past Douglas and then turned north towards Portal stopping at a closed truck inspection station for lunch. I was going out of the way to Portal for my daughter had been here many times birding and raved about how nice it was. “Dad, you gotta go there.” Looking into my Cheap Camping Guide book I saw that only one campground near Portal accommodated RVs and so I felt a bit more at ease driving in the ten miles to it. At Sunny Flat Campground we soon realized this was the place. It was a very nice setting within Cave Creek Canyon among an abundance of trees. I immediately felt we could stay a couple days there at ten dollars a day. I was keen on seeing some birds but after a couple short walks, although I could hear some, seeing them was another matter. And what I did see was just DBB’s–dirty brown birds. There were other campers, maybe a dozen in all of which I am sure some are birders. I decided to settle for some pictures of the canyon walls as the sun set.
Monday
I slept warm even though I thought it would be cold as we are at five-thousand feet elevation. On the way to the pit toilet my neighbors informed me that the sky was gorgeous at six-thirty last night. Evidently I did not stay out late enough to capture the sunset photo I wanted. I would try again this evening. This day was bike ride day. I ended up riding ten miles down and back on the road we came in on. There was nothing much to see let alone take a picture of. Two hours later I was back at camp and knackered. I ate an early lunch (hot dog) felt better and then just laid low for the rest of the day. The evening photo opportunity was not very good so I called it a day and stayed in as the wind had been blowing all day and I was tired of it.
Tuesday
The wind stopped sometime during the night and it was a beautiful morning. We got an early start and I stopped to eat breakfast on the road, and ended up doing the same for lunch. Most of the day was filled with driving. Although it was only two hundred and twenty some miles, going along at fifty-seven miles per hour and making numerous stops, it took a while. We stopped at the White Sands National Monument Visitor Center for a brief look then finished the final fifteen miles on into Alamogordo, New Mexico in search for an RV park. That was our only option. Claire was taking me to a particular one when I passed the Roadrunner RV Park sign. We turned in there and that was good enough. I was able to dump the tanks at our site, take a shower and be online to do e-mails, struggling to put photos onto the blog on to ten o’clock that night.
Wednesday
White Sands National Monument opened at seven in the morning and that was too late to take advantage of a sunrise so there was no hurry to get going. Nevertheless we were on our way early, minus breakfast and morning duties. We were in the park at eight and we leisurely drove the loop taking a few photos planning on doing hikes on the way out. The wind was cold and it was easy to spot people from up north and Canada – shorts and short shirt sleeves. Me? I had layers on. I started out the Alkali Flat Trail not knowing that it went on for miles and miles. I have seen enough alkali flats in my time so I turned around after realizing I still had a long way to go and humped it back to the motor home. I had left my water bottle in the RV for the added space in my hiking bag and this was a big mistake. I will not ever do that again. Anyway, I had wanted to see this place for as long as I can remember and now I had. The most impressive sight was the top of some huge cottonwood trees barely poking out from a dune. Most of the tree was buried beneath white sand but as long as some tree shows, it will survive until the dune passes on by. After lodging a complaint at the desk about irresponsible dog owners and all the dog crap I saw, I ate lunch, wrote a postcard and left White Sands.
I drove the fifteen miles back up to Alamogordo and filled the fuel tank. It figured out at twenty-one mpg but that may be suspect as the machine shut off at $75, yet it sounded as if it was gurgling to a stop anyway. On down Highway 54 a few miles to Oliver Lee State Park, pressed up against the base of the mountains. It was a neat little park with a lot of history. I noticed an abundance of birds about and went to try my luck with the camera. Then I noticed the people next to me had a feeder out. That was why all the birds! I should do that. They told me they bought a cheap feeder at Wal-Mart. Later I realized long ago I had bought a box of bird seed just for this purpose and had forgotten about it as it was hidden away beneath the bed. I took some good photos, especially of a cardinal-like bird called Pyrrhuloxia. I visited with the feeder people, Debbie and Vincent (German) and their cat with a German name that means something tiger but KT was good enough. KT stays in a large cage and is quite content inside it. Naturally this did not make for a good photo of him. Sinbad would not be happy in a cage. Tomorrow was to be a long day’s drive down to Marfa, Texas on our way to Big Bend State Park.
Thursday
Up and in no hurry this day yet we found ourselves on our way just past seven A.M. Nine and a half hours and four hundred-thirteen miles later we were in camp at Big Bend National Park. It was a good day. Claire continued to amaze me. She took us around El Paso on a route that said nothing about East on I-10 but soon there we were, heading east with the west Texas town of El Paso behind us. Further south on I-10 I caught my first and only sighting of the Rio Grande River near McNary. Next was my missing the rest stop I had planned on stopping at because I was gawking at the State Troopers on the other side. I ended up pulling off onto the on-ramp so that I could change out of my warm clothes into some cooler ones, pee, wash an apple and mix up my elixir. Next was a right turn at Van Horn and then south to Marfa, Texas. I missed a couple good photo shots in the flyspeck of a town called Valentine, population two hundred-seventeen. I needed to be alert and go even slower than I already was when passing through these small towns. I see something interesting and while I struggle in my mind as to stop for a picture or not, it had disappeared on a mile or so behind me.
Soon after, I wheeled a U-turn over to a picnic area that was ideal for it stood all by itself in the vast flat plains of west Texas. Here I realized that there are other places other than the playa in the northwest corner of Nevada that is deathly silent. It was wonderful standing there taking in the scene. Just as I was stepping out of the motor home with my ham, pickles and cheese sandwich, an Amtrak train whizzed by. The engineer tooted his horn, I waved and looked at the passengers dozing off with their heads leaned against the windows, no doubt bored with the unrelenting vastness of Texas. I wondered what those few who saw me standing there by my RV thought while a motorcyclist with a sidecar whizzed by. All his camping gear was in his homemade cage-style sidecar attached to his BMW. I thought that was so cool and he sounded as also as he motored on by me.
After lunch we moved on to Marfa and it wasn’t even one o’clock yet when we arrived. I figured, why stop? There was nothing there and what would I do all afternoon? We continued on while I wondered why the town didn’t promote the Mystery Lights of Marfa for which the place was known for, and the only reason why I went there. A few miles further there stood a very nice building made from rock, and quite unique looking in its round shape. I stopped and discovered the land had been donated and the building created for the sole purpose as a viewing station for the mysterious lights of Marfa. Well this was a different story now. I thought, only briefly, about staying to see the lights but knew I would end up saying that is it? There were roads and buildings off in the distance and I figured that was all it was. I had better things to do. Just seeing the land and setting was good enough for me.
We continued on through Alpine heading towards Marathon where I planned to fill up. There would be no other towns on the way to Big Bend and I wanted a full tank to explore the Park with. As we approached the town I became worried. This place don’t look all that big and Claire was telling me the nearest gasoline station was twenty-two miles behind me in Alpine! It wasn’t till I was on the east side of this so-called town, which was marginally larger than Valentine, did I finally see one, then two service stations. I pulled into the Shell willing to pay whatever price they said, which turned out to be $4.19. There was a station in Alpine that had diesel for $3.69. So I paid an extra ten dollars for this miscalculation. (Remember my thoughts on Roy’s high prices early on in the trip) But how was I to know? The red dots and circled red dots on my AAA map are nothing that can be trusted as for town size. I did a U-turn back to the junction of Highway 385 and began the final leg towards Big Bend.
At the entrance station was Ranger Cindy. I read the prices which was twenty dollars to get in, ten dollars with the Senior Park Pass (age sixty-two and older). I told Cindy I thought it was sixty-two and a half. “Well I’ll have to get one of those.” She said “Show me your driver’s license and I’ll give you one now, it will then only cost you ten dollars to get in and your camping will be half the fee.” Yes, it was a good day. Cindy advised I go to a different campground than I was planning on even though it was a bit further away. “You’ll get there at the same time for the other one is a curvy slow road in.” Plus she couldn’t assure me it would have spaces available. I followed her advice and went to Rio Grande Village Campground and picked a nice spot at dusk. After I brewed a well earned cup of tea I took Sinbad for his evening stroll. He is such a good traveler. That evening I was reading all the park literature given to me by Ranger Cindy and realized where I was planning to go, Chisos Basin Campground, was not for us. It was a steep, curvy road just as Cindy said and not advisable for trailers or RVs longer than twenty-two feet, plus not as many spots and no generators. I decided to make spot #52 in Rio Grande Village Campground our base of operations for the duration.
Friday
One of the bad things there in Big Bend was it is in the Central Time Zone and I was stuck on California time. So when I woke up at five-thirty A.M. (Pacific Coast time) it was seven-thirty here and the sun had been shining for awhile. I didn’t know if I had it in me to get up earlier so as to get some good morning light pictures. I walked the nearby Nature Trail which led me down to the Rio Grande River. There I sat for awhile thinking about the people on the other side, no further than I could throw a stone, and the difference in our lives. I with my expensive camera and lens, them barely existing – having to cross the river each day and leave handmade art, animal figures made from copper wire, on the rocks along with a plastic bottle to place in a donation. Back at camp I became obsessed in capturing a photo of these beautiful red birds which I found out to be Vermillion Flycatchers. It was very frustrating for they were quite shy. Giving up on that I began to walk over to the store and checkout the showers when a Road Runner appeared in camp. Back I went for the camera and he, or she was very obliging in having his photo taken. They must be used to people. It looked to be too far to walk so I unload the bike and rode over. Once there I found that Internet was available so I went back to camp then drove over to post on the blog. I decided to wait until the day I leave Big Bend to do my shower. I would just get hot and sticky each day otherwise.
Back at camp I resumed my obsession with the Flycatcher and finally, captured some shots that I thought would be acceptable. I hadn’t been drinking enough water and I could tell that when I would start wearing down. It wasn’t really scorching hot, but it was warm and I was still not use to it. In the evening I re-did a portion of the Nature Trail in an attempt to get a sunset picture of the Sierras Del Carmen. At the top of the trail I visited with Melissa, a college student from Houston and then later a couple from Washington. After sunset it was back to camp and try to decide what to fix for dinner. Since you cannot run generators past eight P.M., I decided on a box of macaroni and cheese. While fixing it I wondered why my neighbors were getting away with running their generator. Well it wasn’t eight P.M. yet. I still had my time calculations all askew. But the macaroni and cheese was great, so there!
Saturday
I awoke at five A.M. and crawled out of bed a half hour later, my time, again seven o’clock here. The first order of business was to return to the Nature Trail where the Mexicans had left their little art pieces next to the plastic bottle for donations. I just had to have one of those wire scorpions. I left them a five dollar bill. Back at camp and I readied myself for a three-mile hike to the hot springs near the Langford Ranch ruins on the Rio Grande. I charged along the trail over hills and down into ravines. As the distance seemed to grow I doubted as to their measurements. I never saw a soul along the warm and very dry route. I then began to wonder if my water supply, one bottle, would hold out. Here I was making the very same mistake as before−not enough water. Normally one bottle is no problem but these were different conditions and a second bottle would have been nice. I planned on limiting myself to using just half, saving the last half for the return trip out. Many times I almost decided to turn back, but thought just a little further over that next rise or around the next bend. As I neared the springs I ran into my neighbors John & Pat along with their friends from Minnesota. They had driven over to the parking area and did the short walk in. With their encouragement to press on I did, ultimately arriving at the springs which proved to be, to my disappointment, “developed”. Not the natural bubbling from the ground spring I expected. I was told “just past them are the ruins” but I really didn’t care to go. Maybe just up to that bend I would go I thought. This led on to a few more bends and eventually the ruins came into view. Okay, I did it. Now I had to get back as fast as I could before my water ran out. There was another fellow there sitting in the shade and I soon learned he had hiked in the long way as I did. He seemed surprised that I had done likewise and we sat and chatted a bit. He then asked if I wanted to hike back together. Oh no, I didn’t see that coming. Well I didn’t want to seem stuck-uppish but I did explain I never had hiked with anyone before so it might do me well to try it. I was afraid a slower pace would be agonizing for me and there was that water problem. In the end it was great. The slower pace was not as demanding as my pace coming in was. I didn’t get as thirsty and the distance went by quicker with someone along. His name was Jim and he was from Ohio. He retired from AT&T, had went back to school and earned a degree in archeology which he now did as a consultant and assistant to PHD archeologist. Good for him!
Back at the RV I was spent. I really needed to rehydrate and cool down. I drove over to the store and took tomorrow morning’s planned shower that day. I made myself a Dagwood sandwich and struggled with the computer and e-mails while recuperating. The rest of the day was resting at camp. I barbequed my flap steak for dinner which really hit the spot. Fortunately for most of the day there was a slight cloud cover which kept the heat down. I have learned that the last time this park had a drop of rain was July of last year, eight months ago.
Sunday
I was up what I thought early enough to go over to Hiker Jim’s camp (#25) and try to see the Javelinas he said that came by his camp each morning. There were no pigs and Jim had pulled out already. I was disappointed for I wanted to thank him for the company and say good-bye. Well he is after all on Ohio time. Back at camp I said goodbye to my neighbors from Washington, John and Pat, then rolled out. First though, a stop at the dump station to rid the motor home of my few deposits. I never used the facilities in the campground as they were one seaters and the place was infested with those cursed Boy Scouts, plus groups of geology students here for spring break. I had a troublesome turd that woul